


Every Day

by Karasuno Volleygays (ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor)



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Friends to Lovers, Future Fic, M/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-06
Updated: 2016-06-06
Packaged: 2018-07-12 18:31:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,928
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7117723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ToBeOrNotToBeAGryffindor/pseuds/Karasuno%20Volleygays
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A job he never knew he wanted falls into Kageyama's lap right when he needs one, courtesy of an old acquaintance. He doesn't count on staying, and he doesn't count on building something alongside Suga that he wants to keep so badly.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Every Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is for Kageyama Rarepair Week - Day 2: Promises

“Yes, sir. I understand.”

Kageyama sighed as his shoulders drooped, not bothering to filter the sound from the phone in his hand. “Thank you for your time.”

The call ended before he could so much as say goodbye, but Kageyama hadn’t planned on it anyway. It was hard enough to muster politeness for the seventh call in the past few days, telling him ‘sorry but no’ after putting in dozens of job applications.

It was hard finding a job, period. Add in his lack of personality and interpersonal skills, and Kageyama could barely conceive what made him think he was ever going to find work in the current market. He had a college degree that hung collecting dust on his parents’ mantel, because that was the only use he could find for it after the first handfuls of refusals.

Throwing his arm over his eyes to block out the insistent stream of sunlight barreling into his room, Kageyama started to drift off to sleep before the tinny strains of his phone shook him back awake. More eager than dignified, he scrambled to pick up his phone, only to see the Caller ID note his caller as an old friend and not a prospective employer.

Corralling his disappointment out of courtesy, Kageyama answered the phone with a neutral, “Suga-san.”

“Kageyama!” came Suga’s cheerful voice through the receiver. “You sound exactly the same!”

Lips twitching, Kageyama harrumphed. “So do you, Suga-san.”

On the other side, Suga let out a long sigh. “But you’re probably wondering why I’m calling —” He was very much. “— so I’ll just get to the point. I’m opening a shop, and I was hoping to get some of the old gang back together to sample some of my wares.” Suga gave a nervous chuckle. “You know, word of mouth and all that.”

“Oh?” Kageyama sat up. “What are you selling in your shop, Suga-san?”

He could almost hear Suga’s grin as he cried, “Ramen!”

Mood piqued at the mention of food, Kageyama asked, “So you want us to try your food and say nice things about it?”

“Well,” Suga hummed, “only if you like it, but that would be great.”

Kageyama almost salivated at the thought as he said, “I have a lot of nice things to say about ramen, so I accept your challenge. Are you open right now?”

“I open in a few days, but I can definitely whip something up just for you. Are _you_ free right now.”

Kageyama sent a chagrined glance at the list on his nightstand of applications he had pending, knowing yet another would be crossed off today, and said, “Yeah, Suga-san. I’m definitely free.”

“Good.” He gave Kageyama the address, which he scribbled in the corner of his List, and hung up after a cheerful, “See you soon!”

Glad to have something to do with his day other than marinate in his own failure, Kageyama scrambled out of his bed and threw on his closest clean outfit and headed out the door.

To call Suga’s shop small was an understatement, but even Kageyama wondered how a business was meant to thrive if the seating area was smaller than the main room at his parents’ house. At best a half-dozen bistro-style tables littered the meager space not monopolized by the kitchen, nudged up to mismatched chairs and doused with dark blue tablecloths.

“Kageyama!” Suga shouted from behind the counter, waving as he floated from the kitchen with a giant bowl in his hands. “I remembered you were a fan of pork, so I made you pork ramen with egg.”

“Thank you, Suga-san,” Kageyama said with a bow, grateful for both the food and the fact that his old senpai, who he hadn’t really been around for nearly ten years, actually remembered his favorite food. “It looks good.”

And it did. The artful coils of noodles in the broth, sprinkled with vegetables and generous portions of pleasantly-colored meats and topped off with a fried egg, made Kageyama’s mouth water in response.

Suga directed him to a nearby table and set the bowl down. “Now, I don’t care how blunt, if you have any criticism, I can take it.” He took a deep breath and closed his eyes. “I can take it.”

Kageyama thought the last part was more for Suga’s benefit than his own, but he gave a solemn nod before reaching for the set of chopsticks on his napkin, snapping them apart as he salivated at the thought of finishing off this entire bowl on his own. “Thank you for the food,” he said before digging in without preamble.

A tide of great flavor bombarded Kageyama’s tongue, as well as the piping hot broth, but he could barely feel it over the elation of eating this perfectly balanced dish. It didn’t take him long to plow his way through the bowl, not saying a word until his chopsticks dropped into the bottom of the empty dish with a clatter.

Suga, who stood by wringing his hands, eked out a soft, “Well?”

Kageyama opened his mouth to extol the virtues of Suga’s food in the greatest detail he was capable of, but as he did, the only sound that came out was a loud, rattling belch. Hands flying over his mouth in horror, Kageyama wanted to melt into the floor as Suga laughed until tears came out of his eyes.

“I’ll take that as a good sign, then,” Suga said, slapping Kageyama on the shoulder. “Do you want seconds, or maybe dessert?”

Embarrassment erased by the thought of more incredible food, Kageyama perked and asked, “What kind of dessert?”

“The best kind.” Suga disappeared, emerging ten minutes later with a dish that looked like it belonged in a painting and not on a plate. “For you.”

Not sure what it was but eager to find out, Kageyama took the provided spoon and doled out a piece of the confection. He could identify a few flavors — predominately, there were crumbled pieces of almond Pocky, caramel syrup, and the tartness of cherry ice cream in a fried shell.

Cheeks full, Kageyama looked over at Suga in amazement, expecting his old vice-captain to have a halo hovering over his head, rather than silver-blond hair that hadn’t changed in so long. “’S good,” he managed past his mouthful. He gulped down the first bite, relishing the residual chill on his tongue. “Very good.”

Suga’s grin of reply was wide and bright and as disarming as it had been the first time Kageyama had seen it.  “I’m glad.”

It didn’t take much effort to finish off the ice cream, despite his full stomach, because Kageyama could scarcely remember the last time he had had dessert this fancy. The best he had done was a milkshake or maybe a cookie, but this simple yet well-done dish left Kageyama with a feeling of completion after an excellent bowl of pork ramen.

After he finished, Kageyama stood and bowed low to Suga. “This meal was excellent, Suga-san. Thank you for giving me a first test.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out his wallet. “How much?”

Suga’s eyes bulged. “No no no no no!” Chuckling, he whacked Kageyama on the arm and said, “I can’t drag you all the way down here and make you pay! You’re doing _me_ the favor, remember?”

“Yes, Suga-san,” Kageyama relented, putting his wallet away with due hesitation. “I will have every good thing to say about your shop, Suga-san. I didn’t even know you could cook.”

“Well —” Suga shrugged. “I don’t suppose you would. I originally headed to college to major in psychology. I hated it, so I moved to the school’s culinary academy. I graduated, worked as a sous-chef for a few years to learn the trade, and now I’m ready to start my own business.”

Kageyama frowned. “But Suga-san, running a business is hard. There are accounting, permits, payroll, and so many things . . .” Blinking, he asked, “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“Kageyama, how do you know all of those things? I thought you went to college to major in volleyball?” He crossed his arms. “Are you holding out on me?”

Shaking his head, Kageyama sputtered, “No! I — I have a degree in Business Technology. I’m just, um . . .” Hanging his head, Kageyama admitted, “I can’t find work.”

“Because everyone wants a young go-getter, but only if they’re twenty five with thirty years of experience.” Suga hummed his sympathy. “You’ll find something. I promi —”

Kageyama watched a cascade of thoughts wash over Suga’s face, not sure where this was headed but unable to curb the way it unnerved him. Finally, Suga gave him a megawatt grin and a thumbs-up. “Maybe we could help each other out.”

“But I can’t cook, Suga-san.”

Suga ruffled Kageyama’s hair. “No, silly. I mean with a job. Since I know this isn’t what you wanted to do with yourself, I won’t pressure you into it, but I have a proposition. If you can help me with the business side of the shop, I will pay you as much as I’m able as long as you continue to work for me.

“You’ll get afternoons off, since I’m only going to open for lunch and dinner while it’s just me, so you can keep looking for jobs you’d rather have, and when you get one, just let me know and I’ll give you your final paycheck right then and there. Unless, of course, you’d rather stay on and help me out for some extra cash. And if you want to make even more money, you can pick up some serving shifts.”

Kageyama gaped at Suga. “I . . . I don’t know what to say, Suga-san. That is a very generous offer.” The pleading look in Suga’s eyes was difficult to ignore, and at this point, Kageyama wasn’t sure he wanted to. “So, when do I start?”

Punching the air, Suga howled, “Oh, I still got it. Sugawara is the ultimate senpai!” He held up his hands for a double-high-five, which Kageyama awkwardly returned, palms stinging like fire at the force of Suga’s joy. “If possible, maybe tonight?”

Kageyama scratched his head. “Are you having problems with the business part of it, Suga-san?”

“Sort of.” Suga dragged Kageyama towards the back of the shop and into a hole-in-the-wall office that was little more than a desk built into the wall, with just enough room for a chair. “My computer is doing a thing, and I can’t make it stop.”

Kageyama let Suga point out the issue and immediately got to work. After five minutes, the machine was running correctly and processing at normal speed. “How did you do that?”

“You had a virus,” Kageyama explained. “I installed firewall software that I already own and logged into my account. You shouldn’t have any more problems.”

Suga threw his arms around Kageyama. “Bless you, Kageyama. I almost didn’t call you today because I thought you’d have forgotten about me by now, but here you are, saving my skin.”

Brows knitting, Kageyama pouted. “You thought I’d . . . forget you?”

Laughing, Suga threw an arm around Kageyama’s shoulder and said, “Yeah, maybe not. It sounds stupid when you say it like that.”

With a bob of the head, Kageyama said, “Show me more.”

They worked well into the night, with Kageyama navigating Suga’s haphazard work in his accounting software and Suga prepping as much as he could for the big opening the next day. It was nearly midnight when Suga returned with a plate of tempura vegetables and a yawn. “Here. You’ve been working for six hours. Eat something and go home.”

Not in a mood to turn down perfectly delicious-smelling food, Kageyama took the plate and starting munching while he wrapped up. “You are almost set up. I’ve requested lines of credit for your vendors so you can get wholesale prices, and I should hear back from them sometime tomorrow. You don’t really have any payroll to worry about, but it’s set up for you to add payees easily if I can’t do it for you. Also, I’ve linked the accounting software to alert you if your business account will be lower than a certain amount after the vendor payouts are processed.”

“You are a wizard,” Suga said, dropping his bottom on the edge of the desk. “I would probably be doing it all the hard way. Thank you.”

“No, Suga-san,” Kageyama insisted, putting down the fried bit of carrot he had been munching. “You gave me my first job, and I’m going to work hard to make sure you don’t regret it.”

“You’re off to a great start.” Suga pointed to the plate. “Now eat. Boss’s orders.”

“Yes, Suga-san.”

Soon, Kageyama took a taxi home and got some rest for his first ‘official’ day of work. Those moments in Suga’s office, manipulating programs and crunching numbers, had been a rush to him. He felt the rusty wheels of his education beginning to spin again, where things he had done in theory began to animate on the screen. They were alive and real.

This was going to be fun.

 

It was a relentlessly sunny eight in the morning when Kageyama arrived at the shop, but nothing was more relentlessly sunny than Suga, who was humming at the counter while he was setting up the cash register. “Oh, good morning, Kageyama!”

“Good morning, Suga-san.” Kageyama looked over the counter. “Is that linked to the system in the office yet?”

“That’s what I’m —” Suga smacked the side of the register. “— trying to do.”

Raising a brow, Kageyama asked, “Can I try?”

Suga sent a withering glare at the register and muttered, “Be my guest,” before he stomped back into the kitchen.

Kageyama decided not to tell Suga that he got the register linked in under five minutes. Instead, he headed to the office to finish what he had started the night before, only to find a plate of shrimp chips waiting for him. After a whispered blessing of thanks to the patron god of solicitous senpai-tachi, Kageyama worked until Suga poked his head in when it was nearly eleven.

“Almost go-time!” Suga was all smiles as he herded a guest into the office, who wore a sandwich board and an expression of horror. “Look at who turned up!”

“Azumane-san!” Kageyama gulped. “You are, um . . . helping Suga-san, too?”

Azumane closed his eyes and turned his head. “Please don’t tell anyone I did this.”

Kageyama scratched his head. “But they can . . . see you?”

“I know!” Azumane buried his face in his hands. “A least he’s paying you.”

“Suga-san,” Kageyama said as he shot Suga a worried glance. “Is this true?”

Suga bit his lip. “Well, the thing is, I can only afford one employee right now, and that’s you.”

Kageyama stood and pounded his fist onto his chest. “Then don’t pay me. Pay Azumane-san until you can afford to pay us both.”

“Kageyama, you don’t have to —” Azumane’s eyes started to water. “You’re a great kouhai, Kageyama, but I’m willing to wait for the business to take off before collecting. My wife makes good money, so she’s fine with me helping out as long as Suga needs.”

Suga beamed. “Oh, how is Hitoka-chan?”

Azumane’s entire face lit up. “She’s doing very well. She said we might, um —” Face burning, he muttered, “We might have a little one on the way.”

Watching this exchange with bizarre fascination, Kageyama’s brain took a moment to catch up to the name Suga had mentioned. “Hitoka?” His eyes widened. “Yachi-san!”

The mention of his wife’s name turned Azumane into a completely different person. Pulling out his wallet, he dropped down an entire cascade of photos of him and the tiny blonde Kageyama remembered from school. In each one of them, they both radiated happiness that Kageyama couldn’t help but envy just a little.

But a thought hit his brain and escaped out of his mouth before he could stop it. “Your kids will be the size of Hinata.”

Suga and Azumane looked at each other before bursting into laughter. Feeling like he was on the outside of a joke, Kageyama grumbled, “What did I say?”

“I said that,” Suga wheezed. “Just the other day.”

“It was six years ago!” Azumane cried. “And short children are just as good.” With a huff, he added, “You should know.”

“Oi!” Suga chased Azumane out of the room in a mixture of ire and laughter, leaving Kageyama to head out to the dining room and look at the spread of tables that will hopefully be full in a few moments.

When Suga returned from chasing Azumane out to the sidewalk, complete with an armload of flyers, he looked around and took a deep breath. “Well, this is it.”

Kageyama nodded and sent a meaningful glance at the door. “It’s one minute early.”

“Then we’ll be a minute early,” Suga heralded as he swung open the door and called out, “Lunch is here!”

As the clock rolled around to eleven, the sound of silence met the shop. Kageyama looked at Suga nervously. “Is this okay?”

Suga shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve never opened a shop before. I’d imagine we’ll do better during lunch hour.”

Biting his lip, Kageyama scoured his brain for any ideas to get customers into the shop. After all, he couldn’t let everyone miss out on the hot, fragrant boon that was Suga’s —

“I have an idea,” both of them said in unison.

“You first,” Suga urged. “My idea is probably stupid, anyway.”

Kageyama wondered what kind of idea could possibly be deemed stupid at this point but brushed that off to say, “Start cooking something. The smell might bring people in.” He gave Suga a half-shrug. “It would work for me.”

“Genius!” Suga gripped Kageyama in a bear hug that was hard enough to lift him off the floor. “Much better than my idea.”

“What was your idea?”

Suga laughed and waved a wooden spoon as he flitted behind the counter. “Oh, just to pose in the window wearing nothing but an apron.”

Kageyama’s eyes widened. “But wouldn’t that scare away all the men, Suga-san?”

“You’d be surprised.” Suga took a few pans of veggies from the prep refrigerator. “I usually do well with both.”

Unsure how to answer that, Kageyama let the comment go as he wondered what it meant. Did that imply that Suga was into both men and women? He had never thought much about sexuality in school — and didn’t think much of it currently, either — but Kageyama was not unaware that a number of his former schoolmates could have been and still would be gay.

As he watched Suga’s hands fly over the pot, almost like he was casting a spell, Kageyama thought about his own sexuality. Or, pointedly, the lack of it. It had taken years to figure out that the things that drove his teammates to drool over their beautiful managers did not apply to him. The thought of seeing naked women did not stir anything in him, and if he had to guess, naked men were probably not much different.

Asexuality, the internet had called it. Also known as Parental Disappointment Syndrome.

_No_ , Kageyama thought to himself, glaring at the table beneath him. He wasn’t going to ruin a perfectly good day at work by worrying about his mother’s constant demands that he produce some grandchildren and his father’s possibly-empty threats of setting up omiai to find him a wife.

They just didn’t understand that he didn’t want either of those. All he wanted was a job, his own apartment, and a life to lead as he chose. That may have been why Kageyama had not had to think very long or hard on whether to take up Suga on his offer of employment. Even if he hadn’t been offered money or ramen in exchange for his services, he would have done it just for the chance to put something on his resume.

In essence, Suga was giving him a ticket to his own freedom, and Kageyama wanted to make sure he lived up to that. With a resolute set to his jaw, Kageyama pulled out his phone and dialed a long-dormant number in his phone.

“Hello,” answered the confused voice on the other side of the line. “Is that really you, Kageyama, or did you change your number and someone else has it now?”

“Kunimi,” Kageyama said, willing his hands to stop shaking. “I’m at a new restaurant, and they have great fried ice cream. It reminded me of you, so I thought you might like the name of the shop if you want to try it sometime.”

By the end of his pitch, Kageyama was nearly wheezing for air, but he finished without jumbling any words or stammering — a common side effect of speaking directly to his former rivals, who he had managed to make peace with a couple of years after high school.

There was a chuckle from Kunimi. “Wow, that is more words than I’ve ever heard you said without ‘idiot’ or ‘lazy’ thrown in.” With a hum, Kunimi asked, “Um, do they have caramel?”

Not sure, Kageyama grabbed the nearest menu and scanned it frantically, eyes finally lighting on the dessert section. “Yes! Salted caramel ice cream with dark chocolate drizzle and white fudge shavings.”

“Give me the address,” Kunimi demanded. There were a few muffled words before Kunimi returned to add, “Are you there now?”

“Yes?” Kageyama answered, hoping it wasn’t a deal-breaker.

With a huff, Kunimi ordered, “Stay there. We’ll be down in fifteen minutes. That’s not far from our place.”

“Yes!” Kageyama pumped a fist as Kunimi hung up. “Suga-san, I got one!”

But even as he said that, a family of four poured in through the door, children clamoring for sustenance. Looking around in panic, Kageyama realized that he was waiting for servers who did not exist. He swallowed loud and hard before grabbing a fistful of menus (far more than four) and gesturing to the customers, “Please sit where you like.”

The father nodded with a smile and chose a place near the kitchen. As Kageyama approached, he said, “We smelled it from the street and thought it was worth a try.”

Handing out the menus, Kageyama nodded. “Suga-san’s cooking is amazing. I think you will like it very much.”

The customers smiled at this, but the mere action of it made Kageyama freeze in place. He realized that he had no experience whatsoever in waiting tables, something he had done on impulse, and now these people would expect him to serve them the rest of the meal.

Hoping he wasn’t biting off more than he could chew, Kageyama stutters, “Um, do you want to start with a drink?” He turned his stack of menus until he found the drink menu. “Tea, water, ramune, bubble tea?”

With more ease than he thought possible, Kageyama managed to take their drink orders and return with the requested items, doling them out to the right parties just as the sound of footsteps signaled the arrival of a new set of guests. “Be right back.”

Turning to see who was there, Kageyama reeled when he saw Kunimi and and even more shocked-looking Kindaichi. “You! Since when do you wait tables?”

Kunimi elbowed Kindaichi and murmured something Kageyama couldn’t hear before approaching. “So, this is it? I didn’t know you worked here.”

“I, um —” Kageyama almost dropped the stack of menus before adding, “Suga-san is alone today. I do the books, but he needs my help, so I’m helping.”

Kindaichi gave him a bob of the head. “Good.” When Kunimi drove a heel into Kindaichi’s shin, he amended, “I’m glad you are here, Kageyama. It’s nice to see you again.”

More comfortable with Kindaichi’s natural reaction than his bottled praise, Kageyama shudders just a little bit before saying, “Sit wherever you like.”

Kunimi smiled and led Kindaichi to a dim corner not far from the other table. Relieved that he hadn’t messed up entirely, Kageyama followed and handed out the menus, making sure this time to point out the drink menu. “Can I get something started for you?”

“Tea,” they both said at once, and Kageyama darted off to start a whole pot, hoping the brewing machine wasn’t too hard to work. Managing to get it working, Kageyama looked around for something to write with before heading back to the first table. Eyes lighting on an order pad and a pen next to the register, he grabbed them both and returned to the family.

Schooling his words, he asked, “Do you need more time, or are you ready to order?”

The wife smiled. “We’re ready. Tempura chicken and vegetables for both the kids, and I would like the shouyu ramen.”

“I’ll take the pork ramen,” the husband chimed. “I think that’s what I smelled outside.”

Kageyama hummed, eyes closed at the memory of Suga’s cooking. “Yes, sir. I had some just last night. Very good.”

With what he hoped was a smile, Kageyama left them to head for the kitchen. “Suga-san! Suga-san, I have orders!”

Suga’s head popped up in surprise from where he was poking around in the refrigerator. “What? You were taking orders?”

“It worked,” Kageyama said as he thrust the ticket out to Suga. “The smell thing. There’s another table, too. I’m just waiting on tea.”

Gaping at Kageyama, Suga reached out and clenched his arm. Hard. “You don’t have to do this, but thank you. I appreciate this so much.”

“Thank you, Suga-san!” Kageyama yelped, unused to the praise. “I’ll be back with the next order.”

Almost running, Kageyama hurried back to Kunimi and Kindaichi bearing tea before checking on his first party’s drink situation. Topping off the adults’ teas as well, Kageyama sent the next order to the kitchen in time to greet yet another guest.

Slowly, the dining room began to fill, and Kageyama became eternally grateful for the small number of tables. Glad for his almost freakish memory, he was able to keep all the orders straight, despite not knowing the table numbering system until Suga pointed it out, and delivered the food almost as quickly as it came out of the kitchen.

He nearly missed the sight of Suga whirling around like a madman, chopping and stirring and flicking food in frying pans like it was nothing. As he watched, Kageyama mentally noted to scold Suga if he ever said he wasn’t a genius. This was just as graceful as watching an artist, a master craftsman, or even a very good volleyball player at work.

The tables stayed filled for an hour and a half, but as the lunch rush trickled down into the afternoon lull, Kageyama started to feel the stress of the throng of people he had served. Finally, when the last customer left and the shop closed until dinner, he flopped down into the office chair and groaned at the ceiling.

“Why don’t they pay waiters more? It’s hard.”

Behind him, Suga sighed. “You were great, Kageyama. I can’t believe how well you handled all that, when it should have been me —”

Hearing the crack in Suga’s voice, Kageyama turned around to see Suga grinding tears out of his eyes with the heels of his hands. “Suga-san?”

“I can’t do this,” he squeaked before letting out a snotty hiccup. “I thought I could serve and do the books and cook all at once until I got my feet on the ground, but I can’t do any of that.”

Angered by Suga’s self-deprecation, Kageyama bolted to his feet and grabbed Suga’s arms to shake him. “You are a great cook. A genius cook. You worry about being a genius cook, and let me worry about the rest.”

Wide-eyed, Suga gave a loud sniffle and a watery smile, he said, “You’re too good for me, Kageyama. I don’t know what I did to deserve you.”

A hundred things collude in Kageyama’s mind to tell Suga exactly how much he owed his former senpai, but all he could manage was a quiet bow before he headed out to the main room to count the cash drawer down.

And a partnership was formed. Each day, Kageyama would arrive early enough to deal with the business end of the shop, while Suga dealt with the kitchen aspects, and it soon became the norm for people to be waiting outside the door for their opening at eleven. When not on sandwich board duty, Azumane would come in and help out to the best of his ability, taking over table cleaning, cashing out, and letting Kageyama know when a table’s order was ready.

It was three weeks of numbers crunching before Kageyama was confident enough to pull Suga into the office and declare, “You have enough profit right now to hire two people.”

Suga scratched at the nape of his neck. “You mean you and Asahi, right?”

Kageyama shook his head. “No, Suga-san. After Asahi-san and I get our pay, you can afford two more.”

The smile Suga gave him could power a small planet. “Then I guess I get to use —” He rummaged through a stack of papers before producing a large envelope. “— these!” 

Inside were two sleek-looking Help Wanted signs, along with a stack of applications. “Did Yachi-san make these?”

“It’s Azumane-san, remember?” Suga teased. “But yes. It was a grand opening gift, along with the sandwich board and her husband’s indentured servitude.”

Trying and failing to imagine the tiny Hitoka telling Azumane what to do, which quickly warped into a bizarre vision of her auctioning off her towering husband to the highest bidder, Kageyama brushed off those ludicrous thoughts and focused on Suga’s good fortune instead. “Should we put them in the window?”

Suga nodded. “One on each side. I might put something in the paper, too. I know one of the editors.”

“I can do that, if you like,” Kageyama offered, hoping to keep that broad, cheery smile on Suga’s face. It was uncomfortable in those first few days as Suga struggled to grasp that not being able to be in three places at once was not a failing, but as things had smoothed out, that refreshing aura had made a come-back.

But Suga shook his head. “No, I’ll do it. You’ve done so much already.”

“Yes, Suga-san.”

Hand on the doorknob, Suga turned and said, “You know, I’m your boss and all, but we’re still friends, right?”

“F-friends?” Kageyama had spent a bulk of his life without friends, so the concept was still weird to him that most people had several of them. “If you want to be,” he asked almost as much as answered.

“Of course I do.” Suga rested a warm hand on Kageyama’s shoulder. “I’ve thought of you as a friend since the day you walked into my door. I hope you can feel the same about me.”

“Yes, Suga-san.” Kageyama felt a rush of relief that he wasn’t in trouble for a social crime he couldn’t remember committing. “I would like to be your friend.”

“Good.” Grip hardening, Suga bent over and said, “Now that we’re clear on that, how about you drop the formalities? Just call me Suga, like Asahi does.”

Leaning back in his chair so he can gawk at Suga at full force, Kageyama blurted, “But he’s Azumane-san and I’m me!”

“Well, you’re not —” Suga laughed as he shook his head. “You’re not wrong. But Asahi’s my friend, too. He calls me Suga. No reason for you not to do the same.”

“Yes, Suga-s —” Catching his error, Kageyama amended, “Yes, Suga.”

“Excellent.” Suga took the signs and headed for the dining room. “Let’s just get these hung so we can get some help sooner rather than later. Then I can feel less bad about taking up so much of your time when I know you’re looking for another job.”

As Suga left the room, Kageyama wondered if he would ever get around to telling Suga that he had stopped looking for other work on the first day.

 

Within a week, Suga and Kageyama whittled down the list of applicants to two very capable people both of them felt would be able to pick up the torch. Two young women fresh out of high school, amiable but not overly so, with quick answers to questions fired in rapid succession, were selected to work the lunch shifts and dinner shifts, respectively.

Kageyama and Azumane agreed to stay on as extra help to ease the process, and it wasn’t long before Takako and Chiyoko eased into their roles enough to help expand the business into uncharted territory.

“I want to hire a delivery guy,” Suga said one morning, making Kageyama almost choke on the chunk of fish in his mouth. “Let me know when I can afford it.”

“Suga, that’s a lot of extra work,” Kageyama said bluntly.

Suga huffed. “That’s why I want to hire a guy for it.”

Kageyama shook his head. “No, I mean for you. You work too hard already. The extra workload will kill you.”

“Me?” Suga blinked in surprise, reeling backwards until he nudged into the door. “Why are you worried about me?”

A swath of mental images surfaced in rapid succession. Suga arriving far before Kageyama’s eight o’clock start times. Staying long after closing to clean up the kitchen. Coming in to do extra work, even when the shop closed on Mondays. “You need help, Suga. When _you_ get help first and we can afford it, then I’ll hire a delivery guy.”

“I —” Suga started to argue before his mouth snapped shut and he gave a wry chuckle. “I’m not going to win this one, am I?”

Arms crossed, Kageyama said, “Not a chance.”

As it turned out, Kageyama’s call was a good one. Just as they hired on another cook, business increased due to the faster table turnover rate. Takako and Chiyoko could almost not keep up anymore, but with their excess in funds, not only could they hire a delivery boy, they added another server to the staff, as well.

Months flew by, and before he knew it, Kageyama was planning the shop’s one year anniversary event. On their normal evening off, Suga and Kageyama were going to host their neighborhood’s very first ramen eating contest. Comers of all ages and size were invited to compete for not only the ultimate prize of all they could eat of Suga’s cooking in that one sitting, but a punch card entitling them to a free meal each week for an entire year.

The day coincided with a local festival, which brought people pouring into the streets and hovering around the savory scents wafting from the shop. From a rented noodle cart, Chiyoko sold portions of their famous pork ramen while Suga and their newest cook, Maki, prepared enough extra to feed the ravenous army set to enter the competition.

Kageyama was transfixed by the sight of people eating more food than he could even consider, despite his own large appetite. However, his gaze was soon diverted to Suga, who cheered for every fallen competitor, thanking them for participating while helping them off the stage.

The winner was a guy Kageyama figured was no bigger than Hinata, but with his thirteen bowls consumed, he was the undisputed champion. Suga laughed as the young man howled in victory, and even Kageyama could not fight off a little chortle of amusement.

That day marked their largest in sales since opening, and Suga swore that they would have to do it again. Kageyama couldn’t wait to be there.

As they settled in for their own dinners while fireworks lit up the night sky, Suga and Kageyama shared a bench while their employees left to mingle and find their friends in the crowd.

“This was good for us, Kageyama,” Suga declared. “We don’t get out much, and I feel terrible for that. Especially since it leaves you with only one day to look for that job someone really should offer you. You’re one hell of a manager.”

Almost forgetting that he had started with the intention of never staying, Kageyama choked on his noodles, grateful as Suga pressed a bottle of water into his hand as he rubbed Kageyama’s back. “Easy now.”

Kageyama caught his breath, letting the water wash the obstruction from his throat before he sputtered, “No, Suga-san.”

“Kageyama.” Suga shook his head. “We talked about this. We’re friends, so drop the honorifics.”

Angry at himself for being awkward and inarticulate, Kageyama settled on a blunt fountain of honestly. “I’m not looking for another job. I’m happy with you.”

Suga’s eyes widened as his jaw slowly slipped downward. “You . . . you want to stay with me?” Suga hung his head and covered his face with his hands. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Kageyama. You work too hard, and I don’t pay you nearly as much as you’re worth. You’re a genius, and you don’t even know it. I feel like I’m —”

Seeing the weight of Suga’s apprehension turn that joyous face into one of strife nagged at Kageyama’s gut. “No, Suga. You give me so much.” He nudged up Suga’s chin with his finger and continued, “You gave me a chance when I had none, and you’re my friend. I get by, so nothing else matters.”

“Kageyama,” Suga breathed as he leaned forward, their foreheads resting against one another. “I don’t even know how to answer that.”

“Then don’t.”

Pulling back just a little bit, their eyes locked together, and Kageyama knew something was about to happen. He wasn’t sure how or why, but it was meant to be when both of them listed forward just a little until their lips brushed in the middle.

Cheeks pink, Suga brought his fingers to his mouth and ducked his shoulders as he smiled shyly. Opposite him, Kageyama openly gawked with his mouth still sparkling from saliva that wasn’t his own. “Wha — wha — what do I —”

Suga beamed at him, red faced, as he said, “I think that means you like me, but I’m not really sure.” Smile faltering just a bit, he added, “Please tell me I’m not wrong.”

Unable to cobble together any semblance of an answer, Kageyama just blinked like a deer in headlights until he saw the joy slowly slip from Suga’s face. “I don’t know!” he cried, desperate to stop the wilting mood. “I don’t know how to like someone who likes me back.”

Suga’s eyes crinkled in understanding before his lips slipped into a smirk. “Are you telling me a good-looking gentleman such as yourself is a twenty-five year old virgin?”

Face hot, Kageyama hissed, “Shut up.”

“Make me.” Thrusting out his lower lip, Suga’s tongue darted from his mouth for a moment, and Kageyama had never felt a more powerful urge to catch it before in his life.

A glimmer of competitiveness dawning on his features, Kageyama lunged at Suga and pressed in for a long, wet, very uncoordinated kiss. It ended with an ‘ow!’ and a ‘my back!’ (both from Suga), but smiles all around.

Behind them, however, there was a loud squeak and a clearing throat that sounded suspiciously like laughter. Whipping around to see who had spied on their very private-while-in-public moment, Kageyama heaved a sigh of relief when he saw that it was Azumane and Hitoka, his wife.

“Oh, we’re sorry!” Hitoka chirped. “We just wanted to say hello. We didn’t know you were, um, busy.” By the end of her warp-speed apology, her voice had climbed until it topped out in a note Kageyama thought only dogs could hear.

But Azumane just smiled and waved. “I’m happy for you guys. We’ll leave you alone and see you around.”

Suga gave them both a thumbs-up and a wink, while Kageyama contemplated how hard it would be to get the earth to crack open and drop him straight into the deepest circle of hell.

Seeming to sense Kageyama’s apprehension, Suga elbowed him and said, “Relax. They’re on our side.”

“I —” Kageyama racked his brain, trying to come up with a good reason to keep this budding thing between him and Suga a secret, but all he could manage was a shrug and a mumbled, “It’s good.”

“Good,” Suga repeated as he held out a hand for Kageyama to take. “Now, how about you win me a teddy bear with that ridiculous coordination of yours?”

Kageyama smiled and did just that.

The days after in the restaurant were different, but in all the best of ways. Kageyama and Suga often arrived together and left the same way, and it wasn’t even a year before Kageyama took the plunge and moved into Suga’s tiny studio apartment to spend the other half of his time with his boyfriend, as well.

And as the pair running it grew stronger, so did the shop. By the dawn of the next ramen eating contest, Suga rang in the event by announcing that he was going to expand into the empty shop next door, leaving the previous smaller location for a drink and dessert-only establishment.

But as the place grew in notoriety, so did their ownership, and it was not very long before Kageyama’s phone lit up with an unfamiliar number while in the middle of filing an order. “The Suga Shack, manager Kageyama Tobio speaking.”

“Good morning, Kageyama-san,” greeted an older man through the phone. “My name is Hirohito Kazuya, and I am the vice president of Ishida Suites. I’d like to talk to you one on one, if you don’t mind. If it makes you more comfortable, however, Sugawara-san is also invited.”

A dark ball of nerves twined together in Kageyama’s gut. He didn’t know who Hirohito was, nor what Ishida Suites were, but the formality of the call made him very edgy. Strumming his fingers on the desk, Kageyama took a deep breath and managed, “As you wish. When is most convenient?”

Hirohito chuckled. “Oh, don’t sound so uptight. I’ll come down there. I haven’t been in for a while, and that pork ramen is calling my name.”

“O-okay.” Kageyama swallowed hard and said, “When would you like to come? It would be more private if you came before we open.”

“That would be fine, but I’ll have to keep that from the wife and kids,” he explained. “They’d kill me if they found out I came and didn’t bring anything.”

“We deliver,” Kageyama responded before loudly smacking himself in the forehead. “Sorry, Hirohito-san. Habit.”

“I know it all too well.” Hirohito hummed. “Well, I’ll be there in a couple of hours. How about ten?”

They agreed on the time, and Kageyama hung up the phone, only to stare at it in his hands for a solid five minutes before he heard Suga’s tinny singing voice trickling in through the cracked door. “What’s got you looking like that, Tobio?”

“I — I —” He turned to gape at Suga in open horror. “I think someone wants to sue us.”

Raising a brow, Suga shook his head. “I don’t see why, but if they do, they do.” He looked at Kageyama’s phone, with the ended call still blinking on the screen. “You only talked for ten minutes, and I don’t think they do subpoenas over the phone.”

“He’s coming at ten.” Kageyama buried his face in his hands. “What if it’s my fault? You worked so hard, and I don’t want you to —”

Suga cut off Kageyama’s self-condemnation with a smoldering kiss. “No, _we_ worked hard. This place is as much yours as it is mine, and I don’t care who this guy is. Whatever he’s going to say or do, we can take it.”

Kageyama reached up and threaded his fingers through Suga’s, still in wonder at the difference in their hands. While Kageyama’s were softened by paperwork and copious typing, Suga’s were leathery from hours and hours of splattered cooking oil and even more tiny burns to go with it.

“Yeah, we can.” He kissed Suga’s palm and gave him a soft smile. “We’re a team.”

Less nervous than he thought he ought to be, Kageyama got back to work and so did Suga, until the alarm he set for the meeting went off at quarter to ten. Heading off to the back to tidy himself up as much as he could with his lazy jeans and t-shirt, Kageyama went into the kitchen and told Suga, “It’s time.”

They walked hand in hand to the dining room and waited for their guest to arrive.

When there was a subtle knock at exactly ten, Kageyama raced to open the door. As someone who looked vaguely familiar walked into the shop, Kageyama bowed low and chimed a habitual, “Welcome to the Suga Shack, Hirohito-san.”

“It’s good to be back,” Hirohito said as he took the chair pulled out for him by Suga. “You young men have a very nice place here. I’m surprised it only took you two years to make it this far, considering the economy, but I’m happy you have.”

Taking his seat, Kageyama worried his lower lip as he looked at Suga in askance. He was good at reading situations that had to do with hands and numbers, but reading people was not Kageyama’s territory at all. Yet true to form, Suga took in Kageyama’s apprehension and got straight to the point.

“Kageyama-kun is worried you want to sue us. I assume this isn’t the case.”

Flinching at the baldness of Suga’s words, Kageyama once again wanted to melt into the floor. But the ring of laughter echoed in the dining area as Hirohito wiped tears from the corners of his eyes. “No, no, you are definitely not being sued by me or anyone I know to the best of my knowledge, Kageyama-kun. That is most certainly not why I’m here.

“I’m here because a couple of years ago, I was fighting with my wife and we were having a lot of troubles, but we were trying to work it out. So I took a week off work to spend time with her and our children so we could get past whatever was bothering us. But as we were fighting about where we were going to have lunch, of all the crazy things, we both smelled the ramen coming out of your shop and decided that was that, so we came in. We’ve made it a family outing once a week since this place opened.”

By the end of Hirohito’s story, Suga was grinning from ear to ear. “You know what they say: the way to the heart . . .”

Hirohito nodded. “It doesn’t fix everything, but it does fix a lot of things.” He poured himself a cup of tea from the pot sitting in the center of the table, inhaling the scent of it before taking a sip. “Anyway, that’s not why I’m here.” He turned to Kageyama. “I would like to offer you a career in our company, young man.”

Kageyama went rigid just as a small gasp came from his right. “I — what?”

“I’ve watched this place grow from a glorified indoor noodle cart into a booming restaurant with a place of its own in this community.” He gestured out the window at the passers-by, some of whom eyed the Hours sign on the door with disappointment. “And while I was golfing with the president of Honda, I thought to myself that someone who could build a place that solid in such a short period of time could really go places, and I would really like that person to go places working for me.”

Kageyama looked back and forth between Hirohito and Suga, between the earnest face in front of him and the tight, expressionless mask at his side, and he said, “Hirohito-san, might we have a moment?” Reaching for Suga’s hand, Kageyama tugged them both to the office in the back and closed the door.

“I didn’t know,” Kageyama said, pacing around as much as the minuscule dimensions of the room allowed. “What do I say?”

Suga shook his head. “I can’t tell you that. It’s not for me to decide.”

“But — but I need you!” Kageyama thrust his fingers into his hair and pulled. “What do I do?”

“Do what you want,” Suga said softly as he pried Kageyama’s fingers out of his scalp and folded them into his own hands. “It doesn’t matter what you choose, I still want you and you are still the heart of this place. I couldn’t have made it without you, but I can’t cling to you forever. I’ll be your boyfriend or whatever you need me to be, but I need you to be sure of what you want. Promise me, okay?”

Kageyama searched the face he fell asleep to every night, the pinched smile and downturned eyes that belied the cheer he took so much care in saturating his words with. He had lived with Suga for almost a year, and with every passing day, it was more and more a part of him to have his boyfriend in his life. Going to work together, passing the day together, eating together, going home together, sleeping together, and dragging nine kinds of bliss from each other even on their worst days.

He wasn’t sure if it was love, but Kageyama struggled for a better word to describe the buoyant pop of color that Suga brought to his world.

“Come on, Tobio,” Suga said, voice oddly flat. “Let’s not keep him waiting.”

They treaded back to the dining room, taking their seats once again as one of the servers arrived with a hot bowl of ramen for Hirohito. Partaking in tea instead, they calmly waited for the man to finish his lunch before Kageyama finally said, “I decided, Hirohito-san.”

“Oh?” He dabbed his mouth with his napkin and smiled. “And what have you decided?”

Under the table, Kageyama threaded his fingers with Suga’s before pulling their joined hands to the top of the table. “I’m very happy where I am, Hirohito-san. I really appreciate the offer and the trouble you have gone through, but I have to decline your offer.”

Glancing at their intertwined hands, Hirohito murmured, “I see.” He slouched back into his chair and perused Kageyama and Suga both for a long while. At last, he broke the stalemate. “Kageyama-kun, what is it that you think my company does?”

With a sheepish shrug, Kageyama shook his head. “I don’t know, sir. I don’t read the business section much.”

“Good lad,” Hirohito agreed. “Nothing but purchased propaganda in those rags. But in case you were wondering, Ishida Suites is a line of luxury hotels that service most of the top vacation spots across Japan.”

Suga’s eyes widened, his mouth dropping into an O of comprehension. “There’s one not far from here, right?”

“Right.” Hirohito produced a pamphlet from his jacket pocket and pushed it across the table. “The minute you left the table, I had a feeling you would turn me down, but while I sat here, I had another idea.” When he had both of their undivided attention, he continued, “Sugawara-kun, Kageyama-kun, how do you feel about branding?”

Suga’s eyes opened even wider, but Kageyama could only waver in his chair. “Does this mean what I think it means?” Suga asked as his fingers dug a little too deeply into Kageyama’s palm.

“If it means I would like to offer your ramen at every one of our twenty-seven locations, then yes, it does.”

Fingers biting down just as hard, Kageyama asked, “Do I have to move?”

Hirohito laughed and shook his head. “No, you don’t have to do much of anything. Just have Sugawara-kun teach a crop of up-and-coming chefs how to make perfect ramen like I just ate, and make a lot of money. Every time we sell a bowl from room service or through the restaurants in the hotels, you will make money. No one will ever alter your recipe or I will fire them on the spot, because it’s perfect just the way it is.”

Standing, Hirohito handed them a business card. “Take some time to consider it. My office can fax or email the contracts, whichever you prefer, so you can look them over. They should be drawn up by the end of lunch.”

“Thank you, sir,” Suga said as he stood and held out his hand. “We’ll definitely give it some thought.”

“Good,” Hirohito answered as he returned the handshake. “All of us could stand to make a lot of money, but it’s ultimately in your hands.”

“I understand.” Suga held open the door for Hirohito. “Have a great day, and we hope to see you soon.”

As the door closed, Suga latched onto Kageyama’s arm and hauled him into the walk-in refrigerator for a rough, hot kiss. Both breathless, they reeled against the wall of boxed cabbage behind them and started to laugh.

“We did it, Tobio. You and me, we’re businessmen.”

“Yeah.” Kageyama lolled his head to the side to take in the glow emanating off of Suga, and he couldn’t remember him ever being more beautiful. “Yeah, we did.”

The contracts arrived before the end of the day and were signed before the end of the next, and The Suga Shack arrived at twenty-seven hotels within two months, just in time for the fall season sneaking up on them.

But every day at eight, they still left the same apartment at the same time to head to the same little hole-in-the-wall noodle house, and Kageyama Tobio could not have been happier.


End file.
